Awaiting that PLOP of fabulosity.

allies

Elmo, Big Bird, & Cookie Monster are my latest allies in The Great Potty Training Challenge.

Braden is so good at peeing on the toilet when he’s naked. I mean, seriously, I never thought I’d be writing these words about anyone, but:

I am SO proud of the way he hops on that pot and pees!

I’ve watched him progress from a potty in the living room to the toilet that’s off the kitchen near the garage. He’ll stop playing (!!!) hold it while he runs all the way there, move a stool over, put the potty ring on the toilet, climb up, hop on & slide back, and then let the stream go.

It is the best hissing sound I’ve ever heard (so far).

We’re working very carefully right now at getting him to be just as good at it when he’s wearing pants.

Some days are good. Other days? We’re swimmin’ in Peed Up Pants, Yo.

And, just in case you were wondering?

Good Things To Swim In:

Water
Beer
Wine
The Ocean
Money (A La Scrooge McDuck)

I was going to say Jello, but enough to swim in would be enough to drown in. Yeah.

Note To Self: Save the Jello for the super awesome, fun Naked Wrestling with girlfriends at our slumber parties.

Bad Things To Swim In:

Vomit
Unpaid Bills (Speaking from experience here)
Booger Pies
Warm Spit
Peed Up Pants, Yo

We are making strides, but it is bumpy and sometimes ugly. It is as if having anything on his butt is a signal to him that it’s okay to let’er rip.

We have been calmly and lovingly letting him know that we have other expectations, and encouraging small steps towards the final, desired behavior at all times.

Simultaneously, we’ve been talking to him about how FREAKING AWESOME WONDERFUL GREAT AND FABULO-TASTICAL it is to “put your Poo-Poo in the toilet!!!!!!!!1″.

And can I just say, that on the day that he pulls down those pants and drops a log into the porcelain throne, it will be the most FABULOUS PLOP I have ever heard.

I think I might cry a tear when it happens.

Or do some Naked Jello Wrestling.

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When toddlers pee in anger.

A poem for my living room carpet:

They said you were dirty
but what did they know
I’ve cared for you plenty
and boy does it show

You’re not even black yet
just a dingy grey
I swore that I’d steam you
one of these days

Then a cranky toddler
had fits he did throw
got time out, and got back
at Mom with Pee Shows.

Oh carpet, it soaked in
and I waited too long
I steamed you last night
now you smell like burnt schlong (??? sorry, it rhymed)

Another Mom Lesson
with answers you seek:
don’t let it soak in! when
you do clean, it REEKS.

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Fecal Matter Frustration and Hereditary Narcissism

We’ve been on the potty-training roller coaster with Braden for some time now, and seriously, this experience has been enough to really not want any more kids. I’ve joked around about that before, but there are times when the whole thing really is just that frustrating. Fecal and Urinary Trickery and Frustration really can make you want to rip your own uterus out of its warm, abdominal resting place and shove it down into the sink garbage disposal.

“Poop!” he yells.

We go to the bathroom, he sits on the potty.

For a long time. And reads a book.

Then he’s “ah-dun!” and gets down.

No poop is in the potty.

But he delights greatly in telling me “Eh-Poop!” later, when it’s in his pants. Then he runs like mad to the bathroom so we can put it in the toilet and flush it, while he says, “Buh-byyyyeee, Puh-POOOOO!!!”

If he weren’t so cute, I’d shove him in with it.

I’ve even tried this great tip (is that not hilarious?) but I don’t think he really cares what the poop wants to do. It’s all about him, don’t you know!? (I have NO idea where he gets that from. *cough*)

He pees on the toilet more reliably, but by NO means all the time. And he has “accidents” on the carpet/floor/step stool in the bathroom which are not really accidents at all, if you ask me. I mean, when someone is just doing his thing, then he stops, take a stance that thrusts his crotch out, and smiles devilishly at you while he starts an incredibly healthy and strong stream of urine all over something you don’t particularly want urine on? IT’S NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT’S AN EVIL DEED.

He has also become incredibly obsessed with running to the bathroom and climbing up on the step-stool I placed in front of the sink to make it possible for him to learn how to wash his hands. Does he want wash his hands very badly? No, he wants to flip the lights on and off (remember how he became obsessed with that a long time ago?) and “perform” in front of the mirror, with much silliness.

I’ve stopped him now by buying a cheapo wall mirror (about $4.75 for those of you taking detailed notice of what I spend around here) and hanging it at his level in the living room.

Now he dances and performs in front of it, or just stands there laughing and talking to himself.

So yes, it is official. Narcissism is quite hereditary.

*turns head, looks upwards, and starts whistling*

*walks away nonchalantly*

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But the rack does make a difference.

Dawn’s most recent SOOS Challenge, in honor of Sandy and her family moving into their new house, was to talk about what makes your house a home.

(Also, Veronica and her family are moving into their house in 6 days!)

I wasn’t all together sure, so I decided to walk through our (rental) house (that we’re staying in for another year, despite this, ugh.) and look around a bit while mulling the question over.

“Hmmm… what makes our house a home?”

Is it John’s Forever And Ever, Amen Junked-Up Nightstand?

No… that can’t be it.

And yeah, I’ve tried repeatedly to organize it for him, but it generally only stays clean for .52342 seconds. So I stopped trying.

Wait, maybe it’s the pile of dirty clothes!

No, no… hold on, it’s The Pile of CLEAN CLOTHES!

And the rack that relates to it?

Ugh. That can’t be it. It’s not about clothes or even racks.

“Think, Lotus, Think!”

Let’s keep looking…

Is it the Poor Man’s Loveseat?

Or maybe ALL THE FREAKIN’ TOYS!?

(where did they all come from? we never planned this! i think they multiply at night.)

Ack. I think I’m still way off. It’s not the lack of reliable seating or the 8 million and five toys (though I’m beginning to realize why we can’t afford a real loveseat).

Oh, WAIT. I’ve got it!

It’s the highly disobedient dog!